From Greensboro to Pto Maldonado

In late July of this year, my father, mother, and I embarked on our first ever other-continent adventure. What excitement it was! My brother and dear friend, Corey, left the States for South America in October of last year, and since, I had only received a few letters and phone calls that were paced. Although I think about him quite often, in the month before leaving, I was beginning to yearn to see him once again.
The first time, I stepped foot on Peruvian ground was when we got to the airport in Lima. There were crowds of people, waiting to pick up loved-ones. I was dressed in light clothing because I was going to South America. But everyone in the airport was dressed in heavy alpaca wool or pea coats with leather lace-up boots ascending their calves. An old lady hollered at me the first Spanish words I could comprehend, “¡Hace frío! ¡HACE FRÍO! ¡HACE FRÍO!” (It’s cold!) The three of us squirmed out the door. It was a frigid 65 degrees outside! If only we would have known!
We found the man from our hotel who was supposed to pick us up, and guess what! I was the closest person to bilingual in the car (my Spanish skills equate the expertise of Peggy Hill, the greatest substitute teacher from King of the Hill). The three of us were in the back seat of a Kia Optima with the trunk loaded down, suitcases piled in the front seat, and suitcases piled up in my lap, blocking the view. I am thankful that my first exposure to Lima cab traffic was when my whole vision was blocked, listening to pounding techno music. That was only one way to distract me from the fright of it all! When we finally got settled into our hotel room, Mom & Dad turned on the AC.
The next morning, we ate the finest fruit breakfasts I have ever witnessed, though we were still afraid to eat everything that was served to us. In particular, we were afraid of any beverage that was not served hot, vegetables, and fruits that did not have a thick skin barrier to parasitic invasion. Fortunately, in Peru's tropical climate, there are many fruits to choose from, fruits I have never heard of or seen since. Even more fortunately, later on in our journey, my brother and Bobby expected us to eat what locals eat so we were pushed out of our germaphobias to eating tasty Peruvian food.
After breakfast, we got a ride back to the airport, and since we had a Toyota Corolla there was much more trunk room for our stuff. I could see Lima! Our cab driver asked what we were doing in Peru, and in my broken Spanish, I told him that we were visiting my brother who is here telling people about JesuCristo. He is one of the few cab drivers we encountered in Peru who does not have a pastel-colored Madonna or some other canonized saint on the rearview mirror, and exclaimed to us that he is our brother and was excited about Corey being there.
I notice the thick overcast in Lima, and think, "Huh, it must be a cloudy morning." Apparently, it is always this way, and always this temperature. It makes no difference what time of day or year. The city had so many people; children falling off bikes into the streets, rebar left on top of every building to build more buildings on top of buildings, and each charcoal mountainside with slums spread across them. There was a colossal statue built on one mountainside to protect the people.
When our plane rose above the fog of Lima, there was a solid soft white blanket of moisture spreading as far as my eyes could see through the airplane window. All of the sudden, sharp mountain crests pierced through Lima's endless canopy. The beauty of it all overwhelmed me! I got so excited thinking about I serve the God whose hands made all of this! Our plane was on the way to Cuzco (home of Machu Picchu), then to Puerto Maldonado.
As the plane crossed into Puerto Maldonado’s territory, the snow covered mountains quickly faded into vegetative jungle planes, with rivers winding across the land like big snakes. After 2 days travel, we landed in Puerto Maldonado (our final destination for the next two weeks)!
While we were picking up our luggage, I heard a familiar voice call me through the concrete lattice. Mom and Dad told me, “We'll wait on the rest of the luggage, but that you go out the doors to get him.” I ran out the doors and got a hug that could last for a whole year of waiting. Taxi drivers wolf-whistled at us, thinking we were long-lost sweethearts. Then, guess who else I see:
Bobby Lane
! What a wonderful day! Corey's former boss, Jeremy, and his wife, Susan, who trained him for the Xtreme Team are also there; as well as Donald and Wadeé, the people who own the lodge we stay at.
Donald and Wadeé were a middle-aged couple who met in Thailand, and had been married for two years (I think). Wadeé, Thai; Donald, Swiss. Their best common language was English. Wadeé was very warm, and happy to see the reunion of our family. Wadeé could relate, as she too, had children miles away from her back in Thailand. Wadeé expressed to us that she was too old to learn a new language (at least written). Both her English and Spanish were coarse, but she was good at communicating. After being away from people who spoke my heart language (Onoutinya: my roommates & grad school friends understand this language and are becoming fluent after time), I thought a lot about how my heart language is precious to me, and how precious are words that have meaning attached to them. After, trying to understand the Spanish language for a couple of weeks, I treasured instances of easily comprehensible words. I wonder what life is like for her where she daily does not understand what people say.
Each morning, Wadeé would fix breakfast for Corey, Mom, Dad, Bobby, and me. It was always delicious Peruvian pancakes with fresh fruit. One morning before Corey and Bobby arrived at the table, Wadeé asked us about what Corey and Bobby were doing in Perú. We told her that they were there to tell people about Jesus Christ in the jungles. She had not a clue who we were talking about, and apologized when she understood that it was to do with our religion. We reassured Wadeé that it was nothing to be ashamed of, and she does not need to apologize. Wadeé asked us more questions, wanting to learn about our faith. We tried to explain it to her, but the language barrier was steep. We told her that we would mail a Bible to her in Thai. Right now, if you are a follower of Jesus Christ, please pray for Wadeé. Pray she would safely receive the Book, understand it, and be drawn to Christ, the Savior of the world.
The first week, we were still being acquainted with all the idiosyncrasies of Pto. Maldonado. This smaller city is the capital of its province, the smallest province of Peru. Everyone who lived beside the street had a Peruvian flag (red & white) & perhaps a green & yellow flag to represent the province. The government orders that each household post a flag during Independence Day. We were there during Independence Day, (July 28th), and for the next 5 nights following July 28th, at about 2AM, after the dogs, chickens, parrots, monkeys, and insects quieted down, the party would get started! My dad (presidential candidate 2008 for the conservative party) loved this while we were sleeping in a screened-in bungalow. He had to cowboy up...
One of the things that most fascinated me about the town, which I am not accustomed to, is safety standards. Like I saw little kids playing in construction trash piles filled with shrapnel, pot-holes in all of the streets, riding moto-taxis with no helmet, traffic with minimal order. What I'm saying is, if you didn't watch yourself, you would wander into trouble. At home, safety is a virtue, and people freak out if you do something somewhat risky. We have laws that contractors often find annoying that OSHA and joint commission enforce to make sure we're meeting a standard. In Perú, everything is rigged, and the standard is surviving. There is no one to sue if you crash bikes and have a head injury, no one can repay you if there lion gets out of the thin cage and slashes you, there are no rehab centers to do physical therapy if you have a spinal cord injury, no facilities wheelchairs can get into. You are a lot more likely to die if you get hurt. In a weird way, this relieved some of my fears about traveling across town in spontaneously behaving traffic without a helmet. If I were badly injured, I could just die & be with my Lord. Ironically, I began to appreciate those annoying laws back in the States that provided a carefree environment for me to grow up in.
There are a few stories from Peru that can't be type-written because they involve much animation. Please see me in person, and ask to describe the Circus and Brazilian singers for those stories. Be prepared for me to talk awhile. Perhaps, you'll want to hear about those parasitic infested fruits catching up with me, plus dehydration secondary to fear of the water and getting served vinegar to kill it.
Another thing that was bizarre to me, I had no idea what it meant to be an American until I went to Perú (& Brazil). The child at the lodge had a book called Learn English with an American flag behind it. Children on the river were commonly named Washington, though there is no W in the Spanish language. If you were white, you must be American (much like people assume in the US that everyone Latino is Mexican). Our currency was desired in other countries. People thought we were super wealthy and strong, just like the American movies they watch portray.
Other favorite stories are getting to know Jeremy (J for short) and Susan, finding out about the J-Harmony service which is proposed to fuel their upcoming Royal Ambassadors program, my parents going gun shopping, going swimming in the lake, hitch-hiking on the river between jungle families, Bobby Lane's negotiation of a river boat trip, nature watching us, the bike ride to the jungle, seeing the place Corey's jungle training occurred, blind curves on dirt roads, five stranded braids, and El Mercado y La Plaza. I know I'll forget to tell you if I don't write it down.
I am convinced that our most important part of the trip was to encourage and disciple one another.
Bobby Lane
told me a story about William Carey. Carey spent years in India, attempting to translate Scripture. He went through many painful trials, and explained to the people from his sending church that they were the rope holders as he was being released down into the pit. He was going to a scary and tough place. It was essential to have his sending church pray for him as he went through the fiery trials. More than ever, this fact has become real to me. People on the frontlines of carrying God's Truth face many temporary dilemmas and trials. We are commissioned to care of one another like brother and sister with all faithfulness to our Lord. And those who are in Christ are not temporary brothers and sisters, but brothers and sisters for eternity. Let's pray daily and fervorently for each other! Let's consider those who are away from us, and write them letters of encouragement (I know a few in Perú who love getting mail).
I was greatly encouraged by our time together. Praise God for the time we got to just hang out and enjoy each other! Corey gave a lot for me to process about how I think of church. Since about my sophomore year of college, God has been changing my understanding of what is church. After reading missionary biographies and hanging out with Corey, I've gained yet a different perspective on what the Church is composed of. This is something that, too, I'd prefer to discuss exhaustively in-person. In short, my conclusion is that the Church has much freedom in how to function. Her focus is the steadfast love of the Lord as she fulfills the commission of Christ to His Bride. Her boundaries are laid out in Scripture. Church is not a place, but His people. The Church worships and will worship God Most High, forever. The Holy Spirit lives in the people, and they conform to Christ’s image.